Comfort
by Blonde Hurricane
Summary: She was probably the only person who clearly understood. Riza ponders Jean Havoc’s smoking and why people hold onto things. RizaJean pairing if you look hard. Oneshot. Rated for minor suggestive adult themes.


_She was probably the only person who clearly understood. Riza ponders Jean Havoc's smoking and why people hold onto things. Riza/Jean pairing if you look hard. One-shot. Rated for "minor suggestive adult themes".  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own FMA, nor do I make a profit from writing any stories, and that includes my original ones too. But if you want to sue me, you might get the two dollars, and the half empty pack of cigarettes I have in my purse._

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_**Comfort**

Despite how much she told him to put out his cigarette, Riza Hawkeye was perhaps the only person in the office who understood just why Jean Havoc smoked incessantly. She knew, she could tell, it was just a comfort thing.

Back during the war, she recalled, some soldiers had clung onto cigarettes as though they were the one real thing in an illusion. They had smoked and taken in the tar, the soot, and the nicotine, using it to mask the other horrible smells of war. Cigarettes, to those soldiers, were a constant and that alone provided alittle comfort to them. It wasn't hard to see that this was the case with Havoc. The way he always seemed to light up a cigarette when he was nervous or bothered made it quite obvious.

To her it seemed as though her gun was like Havoc's smoking. It was a constant item that made her feel safe. The heavy weight of a gun in hand made her relax. The carefully cleaning of her gun was form of meditation for her. Some how it helped to settle her thoughts. And the careful aim of her rifle was almost an art form to her. Even though she had killed many during Ishbal with the same gun, the same stance, the same aim, it was still something she clung to, like a child clung to a favorite blanket.

She suspected that the Colonel was the same way with his gloves. They were his constant, his comfort, his safety net. Always kept in either the top, right hand drawer of his desk or in his front pocket. Some might have said that his safety net was alcohol and mentioned the bottle of bourbon he kept in the bottom drawer of his desk behind a dictionary (the same bottle that no one was supposed to know about), but no. The bottle of bourbon might have been a constant, but alcohol was more of an escape. It left people too detached from themselves to ever really be a real comfort. Riza could tell by the determined look in the Colonel's eyes, when he had them, and the way his hands had just the slightest shake to them till he placed them on, that his gloves were more of a comfort than alcohol ever could be.

Then there was Edward and his pocket watch. Edward clutched to that watch as though it held it own life sometimes. Though it certainly wasn't unusual for State Alchemists to be alittle emotionally attached to their watch, it was after all a symbol of pride and respect. Almost more like a pocket trophy than the simple identification it officially was. But something about Edward made Riza think, that there was more to his watch than just trophy or an ID...

Maybe understood wasn't the correct word, Riza considered as Havoc walked with her to her apartment, since the more she thought about it, the more she realized that many people held onto things or did things for comfort and that some were not always constants or even solid objects. Perhaps it would be better to say that she was one of the few people who was willing to admit in front of another person that one of the reasons why he was chastised for smoking was because they saw it as abit of a weakness, and in that they saw their own weakness that always accompanied comfort.

And just for a while, when their uniforms were scattered together on the floor (one constant that certainly provided little comfort, especially to some of the larger officers), when his package of cigarettes and her gun were placed on her nightstand, they would be able to forget all about weakness, or comfort, or the Military for that matter.

Just for a moment, neither her gun nor his cigarettes would be reached for or needed for comfort. They would be taking comfort in something else.

For a moment they would be taking comfort in each other.

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A/N _They had sex. Ok? My brother is always telling me that I can be too subtle so I figured I'd be blunt in the author's note. They had sex. If you want more details...well then you should have found something M rated.  
I just got over a bit of writers block, my head was in a weird place when I wrote this so I don't know if it's good or not. I have something better in the works though, really.  
Please review. Remember; every time you submit a review you put out good karma, which means that good karma will come back to you. Equivalent exchange, no?_


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